


The Adventure Of The Copper Beeches (1890)

by Cerdic519



Series: Elementary 221B [117]
Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Detectives, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Codes & Ciphers, Destiel - Freeform, F/M, Johnlock - Freeform, Killing, M/M, Organized Crime, Trees
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-12
Updated: 2017-06-12
Packaged: 2018-11-13 06:05:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11178630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerdic519/pseuds/Cerdic519
Summary: Saving people, hunting criminals – except this time, Sherlock was called in to help save a tree!





	The Adventure Of The Copper Beeches (1890)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aely](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aely/gifts).



It was one of the great qualities of Mr. Sherlock Holmes that he regarded all his clients and potential clients equally, even if that annoyed some who thought (always without justification) that they themselves merited preferential treatment because of their relatively high status in society. Indeed, if anything, the latter were less likely to get his help due to their arrogant attitudes. Thus there was nothing that surprising in his welcoming a somewhat unusual potential client to our rooms. Even if he was rather short. And rather young.

“Thank you for agreeing to see me, Mr. Holmes”, the boy said politely. He was pale and white-blond, a smartly-dressed lad of about thirteen years of age, and wore a grey grammar school uniform. “I know how busy you must be, but I have something rather unusual to lay before you today.”

My opinion of our visitor rose a notch. Clearly he knew how to speak to his elders. Sherlock nodded.

“Pray introduce yourself, and then state your case”, he said levelly.

“My name is Master Clarence Legant”, the boy said, “and I live in Gants Hill, in the county of Essex. The village is named for my family, which can trace its ancestry back to King Edward the First. I am my parents' third son, and whilst both my elder brothers have an inclination towards the business world, I have always been of a more investigative turn of mind, and I have followed the doctor's writings of your adventures with great interest. I hope myself to become a policeman one day.”

Sherlock nodded. 

“So what brings you to us today?” he asked. The boy hesitated.

“I have reason to believe it is quite likely that our property will be broken into some time in the next few weeks”, he said. “Or at least, our grounds will come under attack.”

I raised my eyebrows in surprise, but Sherlock seemed unperturbed.

“I presume that you have a reason for such a hypothesis?” he asked politely. The boy nodded.

“My parents think it strange, but I read all the stories in the papers concerning crime quite closely”, he explained. “Two weeks ago, I was reading an article about a house called “The Copper Beeches” in Surbiton, In the county of Surrey. My interest was piqued because that is also the name of my own house. It was a very short article, merely stating that someone had broken into the owner's garden and, for some inexplicable reason, attacked a copper beech tree and scored great marks into it. The tree lies in the centre of the house's main lawn, but at this season such a thing would usually have gone unnoticed, except for the fact that the house owner had chanced to order a swing to be installed for his grand-daughter. The newspaper writer put it down to an act of petty vandalism, but I find strange cases like that most interesting, and wrote it down in my notebook.”

“Go on”, Sherlock urged.

“Last week, there was an almost identical incident at another "Copper Beeches", this time down in Dulwich”, the boy said. “This house had two large trees in its garden, and only one tree was attacked. It is not that I see any particular danger in all this, but it is just.... strange.”

“I agree”, Sherlock said, to the boy's evident surprise. “And you were quite right to bring this matter to our attention. I find the whole business most intriguing, and we shall take on this case for you. If you write your address down for me, I will make sure that you are kept fully informed of any developments.”

The boy looked almost disbelieving that Sherlock had been so easily won over, but eagerly wrote down his details and handed them to me. Then he thanked us for our time and left. I looked at my friend thoughtfully.

“You think that there is something more to this than just arboreal vandalism?” I hazarded.

“I am concerned”, Sherlock said. “Let us consider the facts. Unless we assume that some madman has developed an impassioned hatred for houses of that name and/or the _fagus sylvatica purpurea_ – and if that, then why only one tree in the second case? - then there must be a motive for these attacks. And the fact that they are spaced out suggests that the attacker is attempting to let any fuss die down, lest someone spots a link between the attacks. It is his misfortune both that the first attack was spotted because of that swing being installed, and that an Essex schoolboy was so alert as to spot his scheme after the second of his outings.”

“You think that there will be more?” I said.

“I am certain of it”, Sherlock said. “And the boy's house will quite likely be one of the targets. We know from his uniform that he attends Ilford Grammar School, so we may presume that he has gone there after visiting us, having told them that he will be late for some reason. We shall take advantage of that fact and visit his house in Essex today, as it is one of your days off.”

“My writing days”, I corrected, slightly annoyed. At this time in my medical career I worked Wednesdays as a rule, but this particular month I had been asked to do Thursdays instead to help cover another doctor's absence. I was sure that Sherlock thought I just wrote of our adventures together with minimal effort, whereas the effort often made my head hurt and my hand ache. My thoughts must have shown in my face, for he came over and took me by the shoulders.

“I am sorry, my friend”, he said sincerely. “I know much effort you put into your writings, and that I do not appreciate them as much as I should. I spoke before thinking.”

He looked at me earnestly, his blue eyes boring into me. How could I not forgive him when he looked at me like that?

“I shall go and get ready”, I said, a little gruffly. 

I would have made for my room, but he looked so dejected that I had to say it. 

“Apology accepted”, I muttered.

It was worth swallowing my pride to see that small but beautiful smile of his.

+~+~+

The “Copper Beeches” house in Gants Hill was a large if not rambling affair, set quite some way back from the quiet suburban road that served it. I could see no sign of the trees that gave it its name, so I presumed that they were in the garden around the back.

Mrs. Alice Legant was not at all surprised that her son had come to see us. She was a pleasant, well-attired lady in her thirties, welcoming us into her lounge and summoning refreshments.

“I thought that dear Clarrie was up to something”, she said. “He lives in his own world half the time, and when he said that he had to go into London before heading into school, I did wonder. What is this all about, pray?”

The maid brought drinks (including coffee, thankfully!) and cakes, and Sherlock waited until she had gone before speaking.

“Your son has laid a most unusual case before me”, he said slowly. “Madam, I do not wish to alarm you, but from the few facts that he has presented, I believe that there may be some danger to you and your family.”

She turned pale.

“What sort of danger?” she asked, trembling.

“All will be well if you and your husband follow my instructions precisely”, Sherlock said calmingly. “Now, somewhere in your garden, it is likely that someone has hidden a secret message, or more likely, part of a message. Someone, either that person or a person associated with them, is determined to recover that message, and then destroy the evidence.”

“How can you know all this?” she asked.

“Without going into detail, someone left a message split between a number of houses that share the same name as your own”, Sherlock said. “I do not know what form that message takes, but your son quite cleverly spotted two attacks on houses that share the name of his own, and quite rightly deduced a pattern. The mere chance that the owner of the first tree attacked discovered the damage so quickly and that, even in a small way, it made the papers, means that the person must now move fast. Thanks to your son's most excellent perspicacity, we know that he is likely to strike at a number of houses that bear the name 'The Copper Beeches', quite probably including this one as the name is not that common.”

“You think that we may be attacked?” she fretted.

“Madam, I am almost certain of it”, Sherlock said firmly. “However, both attacks took place in the small hours of the morning. It is therefore of the greatest importance that, whatever noise you may hear from your garden of a night, you and your family remain indoors at that time, and do not go out to investigate. I do not know if the person making these attacks is prone to violence, but I would rather not take the risk, especially as I have reason to believe that they must carry a knife or weapon capable of inflicting major damage on something as large and strong as a copper beech tree.”

But how can you be sure of that?" she asked anxiously.

"Because a beech tree is a mighty object, and the message would, presumably, have been carved into it", Sherlock explained. "The person collecting the messages would therefore efface them once he had noted it down, hence he must have something capable of such wanton vandalism.

“I see”, she said, “and thank you for coming to inform us. Dear Clarrie, and to think the other boys make fun of him!”

“When your husband comes home tonight, you must explain things to him, and then make sure that everyone – family and servants – know not to go outside at these times”, Sherlock said. “I would suggest you mention that a dangerous felon has been reported to be in the area, and you have been advised not to go out after dark for a few nights until he is captured. If it is acceptable to your good self, the doctor and I would in the meantime like to take a look at the garden, and see if we can find the message ourselves.”

“Of course”, she said. “I shall get Ella to show you the way out through the back.” 

+~+~+

Half an hour later, I had decided that if I never saw another copper beech tree in my life, it would be too soon. The four specimens that gave the house its name were all about thirty feet tall, still yet to acquire their distinctive almost purple leaves this early in the season. I personally disliked this sort of thing, even though so much of what the Victorian world considered 'natural' was in fact either man-made, or had been artificially bred to look that way. Something that looked that unnatural should not be made to look that unnatural....

I knew what I meant! And if a blue-eyed someone showed even a trace of a smirk any time son, I would.... not be happy!

Sherlock was up the third of the four trees – I wondered sometimes if he was really the angel he had as his middle name, as he ascended without any apparent difficulty - whilst I, barely two and a half years older and not yet forty for some considerable time, would not even have attempted such a climb. 

I was trying to wrap my coat even more tightly around my frame when I heard an exclamation from above me.

“What is it?” I called up.

“Someone has carved three things into the back of the tree, facing away from the house”, he called down. “A letter 'A' and the numbers 2 and 3. That is good.”

A few minutes later he suddenly appeared back on the ground, right next to me. I stared at him in astonishment. 

“Did you just jump?” I asked disbelievingly.

“It is safe, provided you know how to land”, he said, dusting himself down. “Come, let us make our farewells to Mrs. Legant, and then hasten back to Baker Street. I wish to see if Luke has answered the telegram that I sent him before we left.”

“Should we not perhaps efface the symbols?” I asked. Sherlock smiled.

“We do not wish to alert the criminal”, he said. “Once he has obtained the other two symbols, he will move to secure his ultimate goal. Then we will have him.”

“How do you know that he has only two more 'Copper Beeches' to visit?” I asked. “The message could be of any length.”

Sherlock smiled.

“Because having seen those symbols, I can say with some certainty exactly where he will be going after he has all the information he needs.”

“Where?” I demanded.

Sherlock finished cleaning himself off and ambled back towards the house. 

“I shall tell you once we get back to Baker Street!” he said teasingly.

Sometimes I wondered what I saw in him!

+~+~+

“Have you ever heard of the Helvetica Bank?”

We had got back, changed, had dinner, had coffee, and I was seriously contemplating actual bodily harm if he didn't get on with it and just tell me! Or at least not giving him the weird-flavoured barley-sugar that I had purchased for him from Fortnum & Mason's the day before.

“No”, I said. “Is it something to do with Switzerland?”

“Only in the secrecy that they grant their customers”, Sherlock said. “It is a small but powerful little institution in its own right, and they protect their customer's interests with guns and bullets if necessary. The London criminal fraternity are thus quite fond of them, particularly as they never ask awkward questions.”

“Must be annoying for those who want answers, then!” I grunted. He beamed at me.

“One of the things that they specialize in is safe deposit boxes which have a number of keys”, he said. “Not physical keys, but a set of numbers and letters. If a criminal wishes to make sure that no single individual can get at his ill-gotten gains, he can divide the twelve-figure code up amongst a number of people or places, so that each will need the other to obtain access.”

I suddenly saw it.

“A criminal visited four houses called 'The Copper Beeches' and carved a piece of the code into a tree on each property”, I said excitedly. “So now someone is going round collecting them, then destroying the carvings afterwards!”

“Indeed”, Sherlock said. “And thanks to the ever-efficient Luke – I would have asked Bacchus, but he is not yet out of hospital, poor fellow - we also have a fair idea as to who that man is.”

I smiled in happy memory of the injured lounge-lizard, who would surely never threaten my Sherlock again - or would at least make sure that their fearsome mother was not anywhere around when he did. My friend opened a slim folder on his desk.

“Mr. Geoffrey Side was executed last November for his part in the Maybridge Bank Robbery, two months prior”, he said. “The proceeds of the robbery were never traced, and his two accomplices were both shot and killed when the police tried to arrest them. However, Mr. Side did leave a son, Jonathan, who was away in Canada at the time of his father's execution. He returned in January, whereon the family lawyer gave him a letter from his late and, by the vast majority of the population, un-lamented father.”

“The lawyer admitted that?” I asked, surprised.

“No, Luke just knew”, Sherlock grinned. 

“And that letter contained the information as to how to piece together the clues!” I exclaimed. “By God, we have him! All we have to do is to wait for him to get the last two pieces of the puzzle, and then get him when he goes to the bank!”

To my surprise, Sherlock shook his head.

“No no, doctor” he said reprovingly. “This is the son of one of the smartest criminals of his kind. After the unfortunate early discovery of his first attack, he will know full well that there is the danger, however small, that someone may piece together the pattern behind the attacks, even if he waits longer between striking. He is playing for a huge sum, remember?”

I stared at him, nonplussed.

“What would you do, if you were in his shoes?” Sherlock asked.

“I am not a criminal”, I said, a little huffily. 

“Whereas I, in one sense, am”, Sherlock said. “At least in that I follow justice rather than the letter of the law. Very well. I know that there is the danger of detection, but that if anyone does find out what I am about, then they are likely to assume that I cannot access the bank until I have all four pieces of the code. But I am one step ahead of them. Although I have struck at two of my four targets, I have located the fourth and made a note of the information it has without attacking the tree. That way, after my third attack, even if someone does piece together the pattern, they will still be expecting one more strike, whilst I am off to the bank to collect my winnings. I can be out of the country whilst those pursuing me are still tree-watching.”

I gulped. 

“What if he has already struck?” I asked.

“He has not”, Sherlock assured me. “Luke found that apart from young Master Legant's residence and the two that have been visited thus far, there are only two other houses bearing that name anywhere near London, and that one of those one changed its name from “Berry Lodge” in January of this year. Furthermore the remaining house happens to be in Tottenham, which is not that far from Gants Hill. Hence my fears that the Legants may be in some danger, which is why I warned them. Luke has conveyed a similar warning to the Smith family in Middlesex.”

I nodded. He seemed to have covered everything.

+~+~+

Our breakfast the following morning was interrupted by the arrival of a breathless Sergeant Baldur. 

“You were right, Mr. Holmes”, he said, gratefully imbibing the proffered coffee. “And it so nearly ended badly for us. That idiot Mr. Smith went out into the garden despite our warnings, and got shot at.”

“Is it serious?” I asked.

“Fortunately just a flesh wound”, the sergeant said, relaxing a little. “Serves him right for ignoring instructions.”

“Some people feel very protective about their gardens”, Sherlock said. “You have a man posted outside the Helvetica Bank?”

“Three men”, Sergeant Baldur said heavily. “I did not want to take any chances. Mr. Jonathan Side is, regrettably, a chip off the old block, and we know for a fact that he has a gun.”

“There is one question you might ask him when you catch him”, Sherlock said thoughtfully.

“What is that?”

“How he acquired the details of where houses of that name were situated”, Sherlock said. “It was easy for me with my brothers and their connections, but I think someone like Mr. Side would find it rather more difficult, especially considering one of them changed its name recently.”

“I shall make a point of so doing”, the sergeant said firmly.

+~+~+

As things turned out, he did not. He returned that same afternoon, looking very serious.

“You were right about Mr. Side, sir”, the sergeant said, sinking heavily into the guest fireside chair. “He attempted to retrieve something from the Helvetica Bank this morning.”

“Attempted?” I asked. “What went wrong?”

“The bank refused to hand the item over, because the key code that he provided them with was incorrect”, our visitor explained. “The police got him when he emerged empty-handed.”

“Did he say anything as to how he acquired the information he needed?” Sherlock asked. The sergeant laughed hollowly, which was quite unlike him.

“Mr. Side did not say anything. Because Mr. Side was shot dead with an air-rifle as the police were trying to get him into the police-van!”

I stared at him in horror, although I noted that Sherlock did not seem overly surprised.

“Did your inquiries point to any particular person?” Sherlock asked.

“Yes, sir. And I am afraid it was just as you feared. A confederate of Professor James Moriarty called at Mr. Side's house a few weeks back, and we can only presume that he helped the man in his search in return for a share of the potential proceeds. Which are still locked in the vaults of the Helvetica Bank, possibly forever.”

Sherlock smiled a small smile.

“Did you find the codes on the victim?” he asked.

“Yes”, the sergeant said, looking at him uncertainly. “Why? They do not work.”

“Do you have the codes on you?” Sherlock asked.

The sergeant handed over a long slip of paper, which Sherlock read before making a single adjustment to it and handing it back.

“If you take that to the Helvetica Bank”, he said with a smile, “you should find the manager is prepared to hand you over the contents of the box in question.”

Sergeant Baldur read the paper and looked curiously at him.

“How did you know?” he demanded.

“When the doctor and I visited Essex, I found the three symbols in the tree there”, Sherlock explained. “Since it was possible that the man had not yet been there, I decided to take an extra precaution, changing the '3' to an '8' with my knife and re-marking the other two symbols to match. I then rubbed the carvings to make them look old, just in case our thief did manage to slip his leash.”

“I wonder that Professor Moriarty did not try to obtain the loot himself”, I said.

“We may assume that the late Mr. Geoffrey Side told his son that the code was inscribed in trees at houses of that name”, Sherlock said, “and that the latter only told the professor that he needed access to the houses. The doctor is not one to take risks when he has someone who will do his work for him. It is my belief that his main plan would have been to shoot young Side in broad daylight and take the money, but when he was arrested, he had to settle for eliminating the man to try to hide any link with him.”

“So that is three times that you have frustrated his designs”, I said. 

“Yes”, Sherlock said heavily, “but I fear that he will keep trying.”

+~+~+

I was barely a year away from seeing the end of that 'trying'.

+~+~+

As the struggle with the vile Professor Moriarty continues, Sherlock has to solve a case to secure an important and unexpected ally.


End file.
